#implied whump

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

The Five Stages of Grief

Denial - "This can't be happening" // "I'm going to wake up any minute...it's only a nightmare..." // "None of this real, it can't be!" // "There's been a mistake!" // "They...they wouldn't leave me like this, they'll come rescue me, they will!"

Anger - "You can't do this to me!" // "Fuck you, you fucking psychopath!" // "I don't have to listen to you!" // "You're a goddamn coward!" // "Let me out of here so I can break your neck!" // "You'll be sorry when they come find me, creep!"

Bargaining - "Please, no, anything but that!" // "N-not the cattle prod, please, I'll do whatever you want!" // "No, don't hurt them! Hurt me instead, I can take it!" // "I'll let you touch me however you want just please don't use that!" // "I'll tell you whatever you want if you just let me go!"

Depression - "Do whatever you want, what's the point?" // "I don't think I have anything left to scream for you" // "Just kill me and get it over with" // "Just...just leave me alone..." // "Why are they taking so long to find me? Don't they care? Don't they love me?"

Acceptance - "I knew I deserved this..." // "I'll be good, I promise" // "I love you, too" // "They were never looking for me, were they?" // "Yes, sir/ma'am" // "What do you mean 'leave'? I can't leave, that's against the rules"

[saintsofviolence]

singer whumpee subtly changing their songs' lyrics when they perform hoping someone will notice and start asking questions or at least start understanding something's not right

[ghqstwriter]

20 minutes. That’s how long the villain had been sat in the passenger seat, pressing an ice pack to their incredibly swollen face. Their cheek was going numb, but they couldn’t tell if it was from the ice or from the pain. It was an embarrassing injury, to say the least. Decked in the face by a hero who they thought had left the building by that point. It was a rookie mistake, and Villain was far from inexperienced.

The culprit was in the drivers seat, one hand on the wheel, another worriedly fiddling with anything and everything they had on their person. For some strange, unintelligible reason, Hero had insisted on driving them home, or at least, as close to home as Villain would let them. There was a look plastered on their face that appeared concerningly close to guilt, but Villain daren’t question further.

The ride had been silent thus far. In the beginning, Hero had opted to try and use the radio to break the awkward silence, but the both of them felt as though the tension in the air only grew as it rattled on. Villain was used to long periods of silence, being renowned in the criminal underworld for their stealth and patience. The bolstrous and impulsive Hero, not so much. As the seconds grew into minutes, their fidgeting continued, and their gaze started to wander as far away from Villain as possible. And then, as they reached their breaking point in the silence, they spoke abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” they blurted out, and Villain was suddenly thankful that they weren’t the one driving the car, otherwise they’re certain they would have swerved into a ditch at that. An apology, from the hero? Villain was dumbfounded, and could barely sputter out a confused ‘excuse me’. Hero and Villain were enemies with a capital E, they didn’t go around apologising profusely to one another over minor injuries such as this. Then again, they also didn’t drive each other home in awkward silence, so they supposed that some sort of threshold had already been crossed.

“For punching you, I mean. It, uh, looks pretty sore,” Hero clarified, evidently trying to hide the red flood of embarrassment across their face. Though Villain had already made the presumption that Hero felt somewhat guilty over striking the criminal, they still couldn’t wrap their head around why. This wasn’t their first fight, and they had in fact gifted each other with far worse wounds before. What was one (admittedly forceful) hit amongst a rainforest of past grievances. Well, if Hero wanted to go down this route, so be it.

“I take it this sudden, overwhelming guilt is something to do with why you’ve been pulling your punches in our fights lately?” Villain questioned, to which it was Hero’s turn to fluster, as they clearly hadn’t realised that the criminal had caught onto that. However, it was hardly easy to miss. Hero had always been known as the muscle of their team, prefering to punch first and let someone else ask the questions later. So, when all of a sudden, Villain found their encounters with the Hero much less physically intense, their suspiscions grew. And now, as the do-gooder sat across them, riddled with anxiety over a single blow, their cynicism reached a climax.

Hero didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. They glanced tentatively over at their nemesis, and subconsciously gripped the steering wheel tighter as they looked them over. Something was wrong. Different.

“I just, uh, you know,” they started, trying to find the right words. Villain couldn’t place the intent behind their eyes, but they did recognise that their gaze kept darting to the criminal, though their eyes seldom locked. “Didn’t feel like that would be fair.”

To that, Villain scoffed incredulously. Since when had Hero decided that sharing punches was unfair? Certainly not when the two first met, when both of them were so violently at each other’s throats that Villain’s superiors were convinced they were about to pop a blood vessel. Sure, Hero overpowered them physically with little to no competition there, but not only had that never stopped them before, but many other supers believed the two to be evenly matched overall. What changed?

“Not fair? Hero, since when have you of all people decided that violence is above you?” Villain asked, trying not to notice how Hero’s jaw clenched further as Villain tried to press the matter, even though it was in a relatively playful manner. For a brief moment, there was pause, as Hero tried to visably work out what to say, spinning some elaborate lie in their head that would explain everything. Clearly, all of those threads were coming undone, as they then slammed their fist on the dashboard out of frustration.

“You’ve lost weight, Villain. Like, visibly lost weight. Sure, you’re still a threat, I’m not saying otherwise, but you look sick, dude. I’m not gonna fight you because quite frankly I don’t think you’re well,” Hero’s voice was dripping with concern, but Villain was more intrigued by the fury that came through in their tone, as though Hero was enraged to see the criminal grow worse and worse. Villain didn’t know what to say in return, not expecting them to care so deeply, or to have even noticed such a thing. So, they kept silent as Hero continued to rant.

“Think back to our fights a month ago. You wouldn’t be swelling up like this over a single punch, hell you probably wouldn’t have even let me land the hit. That’s not normal. Do you think I’m driving you home because I just felt generous, Villain? I’m fucking worried about you, ok?” The villain felt every response, every snide remark, suffocate in their throat before the words could come out.

It was true to an extent, Villain supposed. A not-so-pretty encounter with a rival mastermind had left them worse-for-wear, but they hadn’t thought it was so noticeable. Nobody else had realised, not even Henchman, who spent their days at Villain’s side. Amongst the whirlwind of emotions kept inside Villain’s caged chest, they noticed the familiar burning sensation of shame. Were they truly so fragile?

“Look, I’m not going to interrogate you about what’s going on, so stop making that face. I’ll leave as soon as I’m sure you can be left on your own,” Hero added, clearly seeing how Villain reacted. The criminal had always hated talking about other villains, and Hero knew that all too well. They knew a lot of things about each other, it seemed. Perhaps too many things.

“And what does that entail, exactly?” Villain ventured, unsure how they’d managed to bring themself to speak without stuttering. “Locking me in my room to ensure I don’t scamper away?”

“I’m not trying to take you prisoner, Villain, please just listen to me when I say I’m trying to help you here,” Hero’s voice was raised, and their tone was desperate. Everything about their demeanour said they were acting out of the sickly sweet goodness of their heroic heart. It was evident in Hero’s eyes: the urge to question them. To find out what was at the bottom of this, to find out who was to blame. For a split second, Villain wondered what would happen if they explained everything.

“You can stay for a week.” I need someone here with me, even just for a week. I can’t recover from this alone, please stay by my side. “After you’ve realised there’s nothing wrong, you can leave.” Please don’t leave.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

living weapon whumpees who, during the first few months of recovery with caretaker, are foreign to the concept of comfort‼️‼️‼️

have them flinching away from caretaker's soft touch because they believe they don't deserve it‼️‼️‼️

have a caretaker gently massage living weapon whumpee's shoulders, soothing words further adding to whumpee's overall confusion before they eventually lean into caretaker's warm touch‼️‼️‼️

have caretaker's soft words and hands holding whumpee's face snap them out of their conditioning after something / someone accidentally triggered them, startled at first before recognizing that, caretaker wasn't a threat, they were safe with them and that whumper wasn't here anymore ‼️‼️‼️

[dinkflocculent]

Contents - recovery whump, implied whump, traumatized whumpee 

“Do you need anything?”

Whumpee stayed motionless in the corner of the room. Staring at one spot on the ground as if caretaker didn’t say anything. It hasn’t been long since the team rescued them, and they haven’t said a word or looked into any of the teammate’s eyes. Obeying whatever they tell them to do. Whumpee, once with a joyful and talkative personality, was now controlled and silent.

“I promise no one here is going to hurt you,” caretaker continued. That sense of dread building up inside them, seeing whumpee in such a state. “We… We want to help you, whumpee; please, say something…”

Seeing it as a command, whumpee opens their mouth to speak. Instead, a whimpering noise before rolling into a shaky ball and sobbing. All that built up emotion and trauma come spilling out in an ugly mess. It was too much. They wanted it to stop.

Whumpee felt the warm, secure embrace of caretaker's hug. Immediately burying their head inside their chest and sobbing even harder. Caretaker hushed in their ear, making the hug snugger. Seeing whumpee let out such a dire cry... Caretaker will rip whumper apart.

"Shh... It's alright; let it all out. You're never going back to them ever again," caretaker took a determined breath. "I promise you."

Whumpee sniffled, wiping snot away from their nose. Looking up at caretaker--not breaking eye contact this time. Caretaker made sure not to make any sudden movements or noises. It could frighten whumpee away from them again.

"Thank you," whumpee whispered, letting out a small, genuine smile.

[nothing-to-see-hi]

Sooo... 👉👈I had more ideas and decided to share them because I'm having more fun than expected with what was supposed to be a side quest. I can work on two projects at once... Probably.

Housing arrangements:

Rafal: An actual house close to the studio, close-ish to Rhian

Rhian: A penthouse apartment or an equivalent close to the studio

Sophie: A very nice apartment notably not close to the studio but close to Agatha

Agatha: n/a Close to Sophie, has Callis's mark all over it, Tedros complains about it often

Pirate Captain: Close to a body of water, not near studio, maybe a townhouse?

Vulcan: (Yes he's here) a jail cell Formerly: (wrecked) victorian house

Rafal rarely visits others' homes, but Rhian visits his often enough to have a room more or less dedicated to his use. They have a key to each other's houses.

Rhian, when not living and breathing for his work, is either at his or Rafal's place. Unofficially lived with Vulcan for a bit, doesn't like to talk about it.

Agatha and Sophie tried living together once after reuniting and then swore never again. Often meet in third places so they don't have to deal with each other's spaces. Agatha does go over to Tedros's house, though. Sometimes he reciprocates but often avoids going to her house.

I would like to put it here, if I have not already stated it, that Rafal would have been better than Rhian had he not been injured. That is all.

Rhian's dating life, because I'm interested even if you're not, was pretty standard for him up until he met Vulcan. They met at an official thing for the company where he was either a new investor or a new hire. Either somewhat works. Rafal is suspicious of him and Rhian falls head over heels for the bad boy he thought he'd been waiting for. They get together and things slowly begin to turn rotten. Rhian starts to abandon his job, looks visibly unhealthy, and his body screams at him about how it's being treated (fainting, vomiting, inability to stand on his own, etc.). But it's all okay because Vulcan said it's okay before handing him another drink. Why would his duckling ever need to question him?

He spends most of his time at Vulcan's house on a large, overpriced, beanbag-looking thing because he physically cannot leave. Rafal literally has to drag him out of the house while Vulcan is out doing something else. Rhian is too weak to put up much of a fight. The cops come by later with a warrant and arrest Vulcan for having a variety of illegal things in his house that could have made the Very Bad situation even Worse. Rhian gets put into the hospital and therapy to deal with it.

His position at the company is touch and go for a while, but he does get to keep it after mostly recovering. There aren't any relationships that he would call anything other than a fling between Vulcan and Sophie arriving. Enter the pirate captain (Did we ever decide on a name for him? Last I heard was Adam/Edward and that never really seemed to get resolved...) who is also a principal dancer but one that's a year or two away from retirement. (Specifically, he is mainly here because I thought it would be funny if the guys playing the nutcracker and the rat king were in a relationship, and the pirate captain seemed like a good rat king.)

Rhian is a bit flighty around their entire relationship so they don't have a label yet, but there is definitely something there. They have their soft moments in the back of the studio while others are practicing. They go on dates sometimes. Things are taken slowly for Rhian's benefit because this man was around and saw him while he was mid-recovery, and it was awful.

Rafal and James have a relationship but neither puts a label on it. Rafal refuses to and James can't figure out what he would call it. Are they friends? Are they acquaintances? He doesn't know and is a bit afraid to ask. What he does know is that they aren't dating because he has his regularly scheduled on-again off-again relationship with Kyma to keep him busy. (I'm thinking of making him a stage hand just for something different. Maybe a lights guy? I don't know what to do with Kyma now that I've dragged her into this. If I make her a ballerina, that's a large amount of the cast who are ballet dancers, but this is also a ballet au. Let's see... She's a soloist who is currently waiting for a principal spot to open up, who may or may not work at a different company so she's not subjected to the utter mess that's going on over at this one.)

Dovey-teacher, Lesso-teacher, the general staff remain the staff but in different departments. Anemone is in charge of the costume department.

That was more than I thought I had, but I also have been trying to wrangle a plot that does not wish to exist. It makes a bit of sense I suppose.

[p3achj3llyf1sh]

a drabble of some angst (?) I’ve been planning. the AU does NOT start happy. I got too silly.

i just threw up on the paper kinda. I’m better at writing out scenes rather than comicing them. storyboards it maybe the best i cand so, aside from some messy stuff like this.

[auroragehenna]

Whumper: „You will do what I say or…(!)“

Sharp teeth grazed Whumpee's neck and sent a shiver down their body. The threat was clear. Way too clear.

But they wouldn't...Right?

[serene-cinders]

A Caretaker adopting a pet Whumpee from a shelter out of pity. Whumpee’s been abused. Maybe they can’t, or won’t speak, so their pain is a mystery, but it shows in their empty eyes, maimed form, scars running criss-cross all over.

Maybe Whumpee’s on the older side. Maybe they’re not conventionally attractive. They’ve been abandoned by the world, they’ve been at the shelter for years, and they’re slowly succumbing. Dying.

Caretaker never agreed with this ‘human pet’ business. They find it despicable, and wouldn’t support it. But… that wretched husk, so rigorously broken down, brings tears to their eyes. And they can’t bare the thought of somebody dying alone in this unfeeling, underfunded shit hole.

So, Caretaker makes the choice to give them the kindest few weeks of their life.

[whumpy-bi]

Earth 6160, Latveria.

Facial structure identified.

Searching…no results found within criminal databases. Searching…

Scanning CCTV livestreams. Scanning—

Algorithm error. Search failed.

Damn it. Audra’s hands worked quickly, expertly as they always did—she wiped the instructions, pulling up a few examples to refresh the recognition process. She wrote in her notepad, grumbling.

“Need to check the livestreams. See if we can access footage archives, too.”

As her monitor began to run through the program again, she turned her attention to one of the secondary screens. She had been given access to the lab’s entire CCTV network, although she rarely paid much attention to it—why would she? Stark and the man in the mask never said much, and their work was…interesting, but Audra knew she wasn’t supposed to look into that.

That’s how things were, some things weren’t meant to be questioned. Like the man in the mask, or the machine. Or the scar.

“Audra? You seem zoned out. That’s unlike you.”

Shit. It was him. She had zoned out—she hadn’t even noticed him approaching. She had been lost in her thoughts, until the sharp voice and unnaturally wide smile yanked her back to her surroundings. He was close like he always was, nearly pressed against her knees as he stood over her. Was he making himself taller?

“Oh…it—it is, sir. My apologies, I…I lost myself. I was just—waiting for the algorithm to restart.”

“Which one?” He asked, although they both knew he knew the answer. Of course he did.

“The…the facial recognition,” Audra whispered, pushing unruly curls from her face as she wheeled closer to the monitor.

“I may have some targets for you, soon. Is it not working?”

Her stomach twisted. “It is, just…not quite to its full potential, Maker. The connection to external CCTV feeds is still shaky, but that’s fixable…but I’d hope to eventually be able to scan through archival footage, too.”

His smile didn’t falter. Audra was forced to watch herself, staring down her own reflection in his mirrored visor.

“Well, I’m sure I can give you access to archives. Especially in our…problem areas,” He mused, clasping his hands together behind his back. “But it concerns me that you’re encountering errors in the basic process, Audra. Your job is to operate without these errors, isn’t it?”

She felt her heartbeat begin to speed up, that awful feeling of cold dread. “Yes, yes��of course, sir, Maker. I-I believe it was just a fluke in the program. N-not unlike the drone test last week—“

“—The drone test, yes. I’m aware that error was an anomaly that you couldn’t replicate,” As she fell silent, he came to rest a hand on her shoulder, his fingers stretching over it to cover the upper part of her arm.

“Check every step of the recognition program, make sure that error doesn’t occur again. We’ll have you run a few…field tests. Then we can talk about archival footage.”

Audra only nodded, his desire for her silence evident.

“Good. I’m glad you understand. Remember, no breaks until you have results.”

His smile widened when she nodded, and he seemed to keep his eyes on her as she turned to continue checking over her program. He left without another word.

[rinkje]

Title: Young Man Sleeping

Artist: William Dobell

Year: 1935

Medium: oil on cardboard

Sources:

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

amnesia as a trauma response has the potential to be so fucking funny because imagine you just spent like 6 months breaking Whumpee down piece by piece, stripping them of their rights, destroying their mind and body with scars that will never heal, relishing in the irrevocable damage done by your hand even after they've been rescued

and then you run into them at a grocery store and they're like "oh hey (: sorry didn't see you there ((((: no i have no idea who you are but you're blocking the shelf i need to look at"

my ass would be humbled so goddamn fast. i would be shinji gripping the sink sobbing in the mirror because Whumpee basically just called me cringe. my brilliant torturing apparently meant fuckall and i'm not even worth the time of day. they'd probably misspell my name on a starbucks cup. whumper turned whumpee because how do i recover from that. what the fuck.

[whispers-whump]

“I want him there clean, sober, and alive.”

“Is that in order of importance?”

[hebuiltfive]

WIP WEDNESDAY !!!

I'm starting to think that my multi-chaptered fics I have planned/started posting will only be posted from here on out once all the story has been written. Writing and posting chapter to chapter has been super stressful, so to alleviate that it might be a while before I post any chapters to any of my longer stories. Sorry about that!

But for the time being, here's a little Gordon v Hood. This story has been my happy place, even if this short snippet is anything but happy. Mild warnings for implied whump; it's not described in detail in this segment but just a heads up!

--------------------------------------

The figure by the window, a little less shadowy now Gordon's vision was starting to slowly clear, turned around. The loud scraping as Gordon tried and failed to stand had seemingly brought their attention back to him. The figure moved closer, taking the seat to Gordon's right. It didn't seem to matter if Gordon sat at the head of this kitchen table; the figure was to remain firmly in charge.

"Good. You're awake. I must remember to lower the dosage of that sedative. It's been terribly boring waiting for you to come back around."

Gordon knew that voice. It was a voice that haunted his dreams, more so now than ever after his accident. His eyes were still blurry but, after a couple of blinks, he could make out the shiny, bald head and the bright cat-like eyes. He could see the Hood leering and, while Gordon still couldn't remember exact details, he knew whatever situation he'd got himself into this time wasn't a good one.

[inkwell-and-dagger]

something about a whumpee begging not to be killed.

their voice hoarse from screaming or just with that raspy undertone as they yell, beg, plead for the whumper not to kill them. full of emotion, of raw terror as whumper towers over them with a smile on their face.

alternatively

a whumpee believing caretaker is their new whumper, on their knees begging not to be killed, their raspy tone making caretaker flinch in sympathy. and caretaker, meanwhile, just kinda wanted to tend to whumpee's scraped knee

[dinkflocculent]

I love non-human whumpees so much!

- Horned whumpees that whumper takes advantage of.

- Whumpees that can purr (best for comfort).

- Whumpees who bite when threatened.

- Whumpees who growl in warning.

- Whumpees who have abilities that backfire when in captivity (horns, sensitive body parts, excellent hearing).

- Whumpees whose eyes change color based on emotion (cliche but whumperflies).

Non-human whumpees are great and are my preferred whumpee!! <3